Warning: Adult Language, sex, rape & Situations

The Vixen Hunt

By Ebonhawk

It is a beautiful day like any other in the frozen north. The ground
is covered with inches of snow. The bitter winter winds nurse the snow against the hostile
melting sun. Fresh snow blows powdery through the young sapping trees. The silence is
not at all complete.

Artic birds chirp in the trees. Small black squirrels huddle in the trees eating newly uncovered nuts from a stash. All is tranquil and peaceful.

Thud, thud, thud 

The sound of furre paws shatters the silence. She runs desperately
through the trees. She is an artic vixen. On most other occasions she has been considered
pretty. Her blue/black markings contrasting perfectly against her silver/white fur. Her
headfur was a pretty shade of blonde that most vixens would kill to have. She is wearing a
tight white catsuit. It was supposed to keep her warm and keep her camouflaged. In the end,
it was no better then her own fur – only tighter. 

Her muzzle is reflect the terror in her heart. She has been running
as hard as she could for almost an hour. She knows that she is being followed. She looks over
her shoulder and sees nothing. A fallen tree appears in her path. She runs up to the
tree and her four fingered hand touches the tree as she leaps up. She swings her legs
over to the right and vaults the fallen oak. Once her feet land beneath her, she continues
to run.  The vixen looks up in the sky and still sees nothing. She looks again and sees
a speck. The fox femme slides to a stop. She crouches down on all fours.

She stares at the speck. She looks and then realizes that it is only
a distant eagle. Her breath comes ragged to her. Her tongue hangs out trying to cool her
off. The snow melts where her pelt meets it.  She wants stop but she can't. She turns,
breathing heavily and runs again. Then she hears it.

"Aaoooo" 

A wolf's howl.

The wolf is her enemy. It's call is death. It's jaws are hell. The howl means that it has
found her scent. She knows that this is the wolf's way of gathering a pack to hunt. Or it is
telling the others that it is about to find her. Her instinct screams to her to run away from
this canine juggernaut. She has no desire to ignore her instincts.

The thought is a good one and she will follow her instinct's advice.

She runs faster. Desperation makes her move faster. She is faster.
She is imagines that she is the wind and she thinks that she is moving faster. She looks
around and sees a dense pine wood forest. It is perfect. She knows that if she can hide
there until nightfall the wolf will leave to find other food or maybe she can escape under
cover of darkness.

She breaks for the trees.

"Aaaaoooooooooo"

It is closer. She know that she can make it.

The tree line grows closer to her.

"Aaaaoooooo"

As she approaches the trees, she knows that she has to get out of the
snow. She runs into the forest and then quickly steps back in her tracks. She sees a good
line of trees and she jumps at the thick limb on the nearest one. She swings up to the top
of the limb and then jumps from limb to limb. Soon, she is 300 yards away from her trail.
She jumps down into the base of the tree.  She begins to dig. Soon she has a mound
of snow four times the size of her body. She pushes her body under the pile of powdered ice.
Snow crystals go up into her nose. They tickle for a moment but she know that she
doesn't have time to sneeze. She feels the snow blanket her body. She commands her tail to
freeze. Fear and the ice holds her motionless.

She hears a solid thud at the edge of the forest. She knows she must
not look but she does. Then she sees him. Her enemy. He has landed in a three-point
stance at the edge of the woods. He wore nothing except a ring and a loincloth.  He is a
lupohawk. He is humaniod like herself, but he is a wolf furre with the wings of a
hawk. His was a combined timber wolf and red-tailed hawk ancestry. He had two shades
of gray with black accents and wavy/curly black headfur. And he was big. At least
6 foot tall compared to her dominative 4 foot fame. She knew that he was good-
looking for an evil furre, but every cell in her body wanted him to drop dead.

She expected him to stand but instead he crouched onto all fours. He
put his nose to the ground. He sniffed the ground and shot forward following her steps.
He disappeared behind a tree and she waited. Her blood was pounding in her ears. She
wondered if she was shivering but she dare not check with her eyes. Her fear could
kill her and she knew it. She mentally accounted her limbs. She tried to remind herself
that she was safe. He couldn't see her if she didn't move even without the snow for cover.
He couldn't smell her, because the melting snow had to have changed her scent. He
couldn't hear her because she would make not sound. No sound except for the pounding of
her heart. She wanted her heart to slow down. She commanded it to slow down, but it
wouldn't. Death was sniffing her trail.

She heard him in the distance. She was eating something. The sound
wasn't very loud. Whatever it was wasn't hard but judging from the satisfied sound of
his smacking jaws, it had to be good. Her own mouth began to water. She wanted to eat
something good. She hadn't eaten in a long time. She needed something to eat. Then she
heard a sound that killed her appetite- the sounds of a wolf running through the snow
directly toward her.

She looked out over the snow and saw his eyes. He scanned the snow
and then fixed on her eyes. He growled and then howled. He had seen her.

The next thing she knew she was running. She knew she couldn't out
run him. He was much faster and, if he had to, he could fly. Then she realized that
she might be able to escape for a little while longer. She ran in circles around the
trees. Then she heard her only hope. It was a stream dead ahead. By keeping the trees between
them, maybe she could make it to the stream.

She ran faster.

Water, from the melting snow, streamed from her coat as she ran.
Desperation soaked every drop as it flung behind her. She could hear him gaining on her
every time she took a step. She pasted one tree and then another. She could hear the
stream clearly now. It was only a few trees away. She cleared a ridge and there it was. Then
she could feel him behind her. She dove away from his grasp. She prayed that she could
roll or something and get to the river.

Claws tore into her tail. Pain shot like electricity through her
spine. She fell in pain and terror. Instinct forced her try and pull herself free. It was a
mistake. The moment she tried pain threatened to rip her apart from the spine out. Then her tail
slipped free. The vixen squirmed on the ground. She had to look at her injured member. There
was a little blood but not much. She looked up at the wolf. She expected to be pounced
on and to die. Still, she had to try to fight for her life. She tried to bear her fangs at
him. He responded by showing her, what seemed to be dagger-like, canine fangs. It was
hopeless. The stream was right there. She prayed that could get to it. She turned in an
instant and ran – one foot. This time he jumped on her. She found herself on all fours with
him on top of her back and his fangs at the back of her throat. 

She became acutely aware of his breath on her neck. His left paw held
her arm held both her paws locked and on the ground with such strength that she could
feel the tingles of blood loss in her fingertips.  His legs pinned her legs to the
ground. She expected him to snap her neck with a quick bite. Instead, his tongue rolled down her
neck. She wanted to escape even more but she was held fast in his paws. She tried to move
her legs and they wouldn't budge. She wanted all she could go was squirm a little from
side to side. She heard him make a murmur of pleasure and then she tried to move to
violently to the right. As she tried to move, he nipped at her head. The meaning was clear.
Resistance would slaved to his pleasure.

She thought as quickly as she could. She remembered that a wolf
sometimes will accept a vulpine's surrender. She exposed her neck to the wolf. It was canine
for 'I am defenseless' or 'I quit'.  He nipped at her. He didn't want her to
surrender. Then she felt him nibble at her ear. She felt him shift his weight and then she
heard the sound of her catsuit being cut away. She knew what he wanted. 

She tried to escape again.  She struggled. Her fingers and toes wouldn't work. Her limbs were held fast. She couldn't move.

She could feel the places were the cat suit was beached. Her cunt,
her breasts, and the base of her neck felt the cold and moisture of the blowing snow.  Her
breast responded to the cold by sharpening- the fur around the nipples spreading to
reveal the pink nipple beneath. The wolf knew what was happening to the vixen. He used his
free paw to rub her each of her nipples- first, the left and then the right.  He
rolled them around between his fingers and then pinched the areolas until the vixen was yiffing
with pleasure. She didn't want to enjoy it. She still wanted to run.  Fear mixed with
pleasure. Confusion was the result.

Then he moved his attentions to her chilled cunt. He rubbed his
padded hand over her vulvae. She tried to close her legs, but they wouldn't move. He
rubbed over it harder and harder. Then she felt his finger penetrate her lips. She tried to say
something. She even if couldn't speak wolfen, she hoped that if she said it slow enough in
vulpine he would understand. But when she tried to speak all that came out was yiff.
That wasn't what she meant to say but it was all he needed to hear. He began to rub her
clit almost directly. For her, the feeling became very intense and she knew that she was
getting close to coming. She wanted to hate him but she found that becoming increasingly
harder.

When she felt his sheath on the patch of her body between her tail
and her buttocks, she was surprised when she felt her fear return. He was a big wolf. She
was a small vixen. She didn't want to be torn apart from the inside. She had to get
away. She struggled as hard as she could. She could move her hips a little and so she did.
Then she heard a small growl come from him. She didn't want to hear it. She had no mate and
she was intent not to let him be her first. He reached back and did something. She moved
her head away from his. She expected to be bitten. Instead, he pushed his paw into
her muzzle. She saw a yellow color on his paw just before it impacted with her face. Then
she smelled it. It was his smell. It was filled with his smell- strong and male. He
pushed her neck up into his jaws. He lightly squeezed her neck and she felt a small cut open
on her neck. And she knew she dare not resist that way again.

She felt his paw move over her breasts once more and then down below
her ribcage. She had no idea what he intended. Then she felt him squeeze her there.
She tried to breathe and she couldn't get a proper breath. She tried again and he squeezed
her harder. She couldn't get any breath at all. Then she felt a sharp pain poke her
butt. Then again. And then, she felt him penetrate her. She couldn't help but cum as a
loud "yiff" passed her muzzle. Her air expended, she began to pass out. She later realized
that he must have felt her going limp because he released his grip just enough for her to
take a little breath. Her lungs weren't filled but it was enough so that she could remain
awake.

He began to pump away inside her. He was big but she could stand it.
Then she felt his knot grow very quickly. She the combination of the tight catsuit, her
limited air and his huge knot, made her feel compacted both inside and out. Held as she
was, she couldn't even move her hips. She would never have thought that this feeling
would have made her so horny; but, it did. She knew that this was the way sex was meant
to be.

Then she realized that he was howling again. She took that instant to
turn her head to look at him. She didn't know why but she had to look. She expected
his head to be far away from hers. Instead, when she turned she was muzzle to muzzle
with him. He squeezed her tight again and her muzzle opened involuntary. He
covered her muzzle with his. She felt his tongue invade her muzzle. She tried to move his
tongue out but she found out that she loved his tongue in her muzzle. He stroked her tongue to
the same rhythm as his hips.

She could feel each stroke of his cock.  With each push, his cock
squirted pre-cum into her. She could feel it and it excited her. She found herself enjoying
him. In less then ten strokes, she began to climax again. This time he let her breathe.
When she revered she realized that she was totally out of control.

And she didn't care.  She was happy. She didn't mind dying now. She
had hopped that the wolf would be done with her in a few minutes, but he kept going.
She became more and more sensitive to his thrusts. Soon, she was riding waves of
organisms. She told herself that she wanted him to stop and let her go, but not very deep
down she knew she needed him to keep doing.

Then he began to quicken the pace. She knew that he had to be close.
And then he came in her. She has happy that he held her tightly as the power of his
orgasm was strong enough to trigger her strongest one yet.  She expected him to
collapse on top of her but while the energy seemed to flow out of him, he lowered them both into
the snow. He released her and let her body return to normal. He laid on top of her
for an half hour until his knot would let him move. Before he withdrew, he put his loincloth
beneath them.

When he removed himself seemingly endless fluids pooled up in the fabric. She looked at him with a look of barely suppressed passion.  He stood over her and then poured the liquid over her fur. Her face was covered and most of the rest of her
as well. She couldn't stop herself from licking it all up. Then she looked back at the wolf.

At this distance, she could tell he was an older wolf. She thought that he had to have a mate. She was certain that he would kill her to keep this affair secret. He reached down and he picked up a bag. In it was a pretty and feminine collar. He
threw it into her lap. He turned and started to walk away. She knew that she had to move fast. This was her chance.

She put the collar on with a snap. It had only one size and it was tight but she didn't care. The old wolf turned around and grabbed his smiling vixen by the waist and took off into the sky.